I attended a class that I’m not actually in. I covered the blackboard with strange symbols and fake math. I raised my hand to ask questions about the general philosophy of this teaching arrangement. I mentioned my rights in passing, my aims in general, and my proudest moments as student of the arts and sciences. I took notes on the composition of the class, the thinly veiled lines of social segregation visible in the seating arrangement, the latent communication in the way certain students raised their hands.
But I was not satisfied, my mind was elsewhere, and I decided to write what was really on my mind.
See the next blog post.